


Sons

by TheSquigglySquid



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Beware of Dog, Confrontations, Parent Jason Todd, Willis Todd is alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSquigglySquid/pseuds/TheSquigglySquid
Summary: “We have a situation,” Dick frets.Bruce is quiet, waiting for Dick to continue.“I went to Jason’s house earlier, but he didn’t answer the door, this other man did, and I... I think it was Willis.”Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dick, Jason’s father is dead, he has been for years.”“I know that, but, but I looked at the file, and it’s definitely him, he’s alive, I don’t know how, but he is.”“That can’t be right,” Bruce scowls, furiously turning back towards the computer, presumably to look over the files himself.“That’s not all, though,” Dick presses, suddenly nervous. Whatever it is, he is clearly worried about what Bruce’s reaction might be.“What is it?” He growls.“When I went there, I saw–I–” Dick stops, swallows, and ‘rips the band-aid off,’ so to speak. “Bruce, I think Jason has kids.”





	Sons

**Author's Note:**

> I'll get around to writing the prequel to this story some other time.

** Dick's POV **

Jason's place is more dismal than I hoped it would be, but roughly as dismal as I expected. I'll never understand the comfort he finds in dangerous neighbors and crappy apartments. His place is  _scary._

According to the information I managed to wrangle from Babs, Jason's in 411. The door is flimsy metal and chipping paint, the number spray painted on like a prison cell.

Yeesh.

I knock-knock-knock knock knock, knock knock on the door and rock back on my heels anxiously to wait.

A series of furious barks thunder from within the apartment, accompanied by the scrabbling of clawed feet on linoleum and a solid  _thunk_ against the door where the really big-sounding dog throws itself against the metal.

I jump back, the barking continues as I stand there, eyes wide. Jason has a  _dog?_ Since when did he get a  _dog?_

"Gawd damn mutt," a muffled voice growls. Heavy, uneven footsteps stumble to the door and I hear the dog get roughly yanked back. " _Sit,_ ya fuckin' animal."

Jason's door swings open. A man stands on the threshold, and for a second I don't even realize its not Jason, because they look so alike. This man is old, though, a lot older than Jason, probably in his forties, though he doesn't seem to have aged well.

His black hair is graying, his forehead lined with deep wrinkles, grey stubble covers his cheeks and neck. He's tall like Jason, not nearly as well muscled but certainly strong for his age. He leans heavily against the door frame with one extremely tattooed arm. "Can I 'elp ya?" He grunts in that thick Gotham accent, the kind you can only really find in the Narrows and parts of Bowery. I can practically smell the lung cancer.

Next to him sits the dog, an absolutely massive black German Shepherd-looking thing. It looks like it can and will eat me if I make direct eye contact. God, I hope it can't smell fear.

“Hi,” I greet automatically, but I have no idea what to say. Did Babs give me the wrong place?

"Pop-pop?" A young, obnoxiously loud voice calls, accompanied by the sound of small footsteps. "Pop-pop who's at th' door?" I suddenly realize that I’ve never heard a Narrows accent in child so small before, and it's a little unnerving. The kid that appears at the man's side is barely taller than his leg.

Now, I never knew Jason when he was this young, but I can't help but think that if I did, he would look exactly like this little boy. The curly black hair, the freckled nose, the foxy smirk... this kid has 'Jason' written all over him, and it freaks me out.

What is happening? Did I step out of time?

"Ya lookin' f'r Jas'n?" The old man rasps.

I blink, taking a moment to translate. Jason? Did he say he knows Jason?

"Yeah, ha, sorry.” I smile amicably, tearing my eyes away from the boy and trying to appear non-threatening. This guy gives me a bad vibe- be it the prison tattoos or the knife scars on his face, the whole situation sets me on edge. “I _am_ looking for him, actually, do you know where he is?" I suddenly feel very out of place, standing in this grimy hallway in a polo and khakis, talking to an ex-convict and his killer guard dog. I know what I look and sound like to these people. I'm definitely getting robbed.

“Who’s askin’?” The man looks me over distrustfully. I gulp. “Ya go t’ his school ‘r summ?”

What? His _school?_  Jason goes to _school?_

“Oh, ah, no,” I laugh nervously, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m Dick Grayson, his, uh, brother.” I flash him another smile, but it feels weak.

The kid snickers, “Dick,” he repeats gleefully under his breath. My brain unhelpfully supplies me with a mental image of Jason laughing in that exact same way, about that exact same thing.

“Piss awf,” the man snaps, roughly cuffing the kid’s ear as he scampers away, cackling. “Jas’n don’t have siblin’s,” the man says, turning back to me.

I frown at the certainty in the man’s voice. How does _he_ know? Who the heck is this guy?

“Aw, Jay never mentioned me?” I try to recover with a joke, but my teeth are clenched a little bit too tight.

“He dun’ need to. I know 'e ain’ got siblings cuz I fuckin’ raised ‘im, think I’d ’member if they was more o’ him runnin’ around.”

“Oh, well, we’re not blood related. He’s my adoptive brother.” This guy  _raised_ him? Uhhh...

The man blinks in realization. “Yer Wayne’s boy,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Din’ rec’anize ya’, at firs’. My bad.”

“I’m sorry, how do you know Jason?” I don’t mean to come off as condescending, but it doesn’t matter because that’s how he takes it.

“I’m his ol’ fuckin' man,” he snaps defensively.

I blink. “You’re… Willis? Todd?”

“At yer serv’ce,” he inclines his head mockingly.

“But… Willis Todd is dead,” I say stupidly.

“Oh, a' ya tellin’ me?” Willis scoffs.

I try to process that, but my head is spinning.

“Is your name really ‘Dick’?” I glance down, the kid is back.

“It’s just a nickname,” I explain distractedly.

“So you _like_ being called Dick?” Another boy asks, and–holy _hell_ , there are _two of them??_ I realize that the one who’s just spoken is the kid from before. The other one looks slightly different with unnerving poison-green eyes.

“Hey pop-pop?” A third kid calls, turning a corner to join the group at the door. “Dad wants to know ‘who the fuck is yammering on our doorstep.’” The boy pulls to a halt and looks over Dick suspiciously.

This one has the same curly black hair and freckles as the other two, with only very slightly different facial features. They all look to be the same age, which can’t be more than four or five. Are they clones? Triplets? Changelings?

“Tell ‘im it’s 'is brother. See what ‘e says,” Willis coughs. “I need t’ sit down,” he tells me somewhat apologetically. “Y’r welcome to step in.” Willis heaves himself away from the doorway, strongly favoring his left leg and using his arms to pull himself towards the couch.

“I din’ know dads got a brother,” green eyes tells me earnestly.

Dad.  _Dad._ Are they- is this-? Is this a dream? This doesn’t feel real.

“Well,” I hear myself say faintly. “I didn’t know my brother has kids.”

I glance up at a small noise and there’s Jason, livid, pointing a tranquilizer gun at my throat.

I couldn't tell you what happens next.

* * *

 

** Tim's POV **

Getting a call from Dick at the ass-crack of dawn is never good news.

Dick tries to be cheery about the whole thing, like “Hey, let’s grab a milkshake while we’re out, haha,” or whatever- but I did not drag myself out of casework that I am _this close_ to cracking so I could cut my _dumbass older brother_ off a fucking  _traffic light pole_ only to grab a _McFlurry_ afterwards, as if this is something to- to _celebrate_ about.

Dick cheers when I pull into McDonald's after what has to be five hours of incessant begging and whining.

“Welcome to McDonald's, how may I help you.”

“I’ll have one black coffee.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.” I can’t even hear the to she gives me over the sound of Dick’s outrage.

“Stop crying,” I growl, chugging the bitter fuel down in an attempt to dampen the prickling behind my eyes. I’ve already experienced mild auditory hallucinations from sleep deprivation, I don’t need Dick’s blubbering to top it off. I know if I can crack my case within the next hour or two I can finally put together that PowerPoint on WE's stock reports that I have to present at a board meeting at eight.

“Are you even going to _ask_ what happened?” Dick pouts, apparently giving up on the milkshake.

“To be completely honest with you, I don’t really want to know, and, what’s more, I don’t really care.”

“I found out about Jason’s family.”

“Here we go.”

“Do you remember Willis Todd?”

“The deadbeat criminal who got knocked by Two-Face, sure. He died, what, six years ago?”

“Well, _apparently not._ I was just over at Jason’s place, and he was _there_.”

“You were over at- do you have a _death wish?"_ Surely even  _Dick_ isn't  _that_ stupid.

“Timmy!” Dick scolds, scandalized. “Jason is family! He won’t hurt me!”

“I literally just cut you off a traffic light. Dick.”

“Don’t change the subject, Tim. Jason would never hurt us.”

“Unbelievable. Fine. Go ahead, finish your story.” I am fully prepared to tune him out completely, but then he says:

“So then Jason’s kids came in-”

I nearly crash the Batmobile.

“What the _fuck_ , Dick!?”

"I know, right!? I didn’t know either! I don’t even think Bruce knows!”

“Well, aren’t you going to tell him?” I probe, my head wheeling. Jason.  _Our_ Jason? Murdering, gun-slinging, drug trafficking Jason?

“Yeah, that’s why I’m having you drive me to the Manor!”

I- wait.

My jaw tics, and I repress the overwhelming urge to strangle him.

“You didn’t tell me you wanted to go to the Manor, Dick.”

“What?”

“I’m driving to your house!” I fume, gesturing at our surroundings.

“Oh! Well, I didn’t even realize. Sorry, Tim. I should’ve noticed sooner.”

“ _Noticed sooner?_ I was driving in the complete opposite direction! We’re almost there! How did you _not notice?”_

“I’m _sorry_ , I was a little distracted.” Dick sounds annoyed. _Annoyed_. The _audacity_.

“Yeah, no shit.”

We sit in a steamy silence for almost an entire minute. Dick’s finger’s twitch.

Aaaaaaand three... two... one:

“I mean, we’re his family, too!” Dick explodes. Ah, there it is. Right on cue. “Doesn’t he trust us? I thought we were getting along!” Dick flops backwards dramatically.

"First of all, I don't know what made you think that. Second, how old were the kids?”

“Oh, four, five. Young.”

"How many?"

"Three."

"That you saw?"

Dick looks stumped. "Gee, Tim, I never thought of that. Do you think there might be more?"

"I don't 'think' anything. I'm gathering information."

"I only  _saw_ three."

“Are you sure they’re his?”

"They called him dad and they looked like his clones. What was I supposed to think?”

“We can’t rule out the possibility of clones,” I say seriously. Possible human experimentation, maybe League connections. STAR or Cadmus could very well be behind this. I’ll be able to do some digging once I get back to the cave. I could investigate their labs... sneak back into Jason’s to snag some DNA samples from those kids-

“But how is Willis _alive?”_ Dick presses suddenly, banging his fists on his knees and completely interrupting my thought process.

“Maybe it’s genetic. We don’t actually _know_ how Jason was revived. Or…” I run through a hundred possibilities in my mind and discard just as many. God, if I just drank more coffee I’d be able to _think_ -

“Or _what?”_ Dick bursts, knee jogging.

Oh, I forgot he was there. “Oh. Well, there is always the possibility that he never actually died.”

“Yeah, but why would somebody pretend to be dead?" Dick gasps. "Oh! To get out of prison!”

“Exactly,” I say, even though I’d come to that conclusion and explored its possibilities already. It's important for Dick to feel included. “The key is figuring out his motives. Do you know what he was doing at Jason’s?”

“Nope.”

“Well, we’re almost at the Cave, so we can figure it out when-”

_Wait._

It comes so suddenly I almost miss it. A slight nudge at the back of my mind. The realization hits me like a tidal wave. My brain, the glorious thing, it does what I’ve been begging it to for the past forty-six point three hours.

The painters. The boyfriend. _The garbage truck._ He’d transported the body in the _paint cans!_ _Of course._

“EUREKA!” I shriek, slamming on the brakes, nearly sending Dick through the windshield.

“Tim! What’s wrong!” Dick screeches, ungluing his face from the glass.

“My case! My case! I’ve finally cracked it! _Of course!_ It was sitting under my nose the whole time! I can’t _believe_ I didn’t see it before! Dick, get out!”

“But what about Jason?” Dick whines, already moving to comply.

“I’ll solve it later! I have to go!” I’m practically shoving him through the door.

“Go _where!?”_ Dick protests incredulously.

 _“Gotham City Landfill!”_ I holler as I peal off in the opposite direction, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and burnt rubber in my wake.

* * *

 

**Damian's POV**

Father and I have been back from patrol for three hours, but he has yet to go upstairs to rest.

I fear that he will adopt Drake’s disgusting habits if I don’t intervene, but his frustration regarding Two-Face’s breakout has left him more… aggravated than usual. Instead, I will do my duty by remaining at his side while he works.

I vigilantly watch his every movement to prepare myself for the day when I will take my Father’s place. Though, if he continues to neglect his health, that day may come sooner rather than later.

Perhaps if I bring him tea and spike it with a mild sedative he will- no. If Father discovers it, he will no longer trust me. And I value his trust more than anything.

Not that he truly trusts _anyone._

I want to _scream,_ it’s so dull down here.

Then, out of nowhere, I remember something Drake mentioned the other day. A Hail Mary, to be sure, but worth a chance, if it will get Father to take a break from work...

“Father,” I begin firmly, sitting forward.

Father looks up, small lines forming between his brows and next to his mouth, his confusion evident when he looks at me. Ah, he’d forgotten about me again. No matter. It is a great show of trust that he doesn’t feel the need to constantly monitor my movements.

“Damian,” he acknowledges slowly. “What is it, son?”

 _Son._ Even after a year, hearing him say it hasn’t lost its novelty.

“You have a board meeting scheduled in three hours and fifty-two minutes. I was wondering if you forgot.”

Father blinks.

“I… a board meeting? Are you sure?” Bruce leans toward the computer screen to check the date. “I don’t remember any meetings scheduled for the seventh.”

“It’s the second quarterly stock analysis meeting. Not one you can miss. Your top investors will all be present.”

Father looks a bit lost for a moment. “You’re right, that is today…” He glances back at the computer. “But this is more important. I'm afraid the meeting just isn't a priority right now.”

Damn.

Father turns back to the blue lit screen and I grasp for something else to change his mind before he immerses himself into work again.

“Drake is directing the meeting,” I blurt out impulsively.

Father looks away from the computer at that.

“What? Tim is?”

Damn it, of course I have to use _Drake_ to convince him. That scrawny weakling is completely undeserving of Father’s attentions, but any time I attempt to talk Father into removing him from our lives- perhaps into a volcano- he refuses to see reason.

“Yes,” I grit. “Drake would be sorely disappointed if you were not present.” Saying the words feels like pulling teeth, so I can’t help but vehemently add: “He might even _cry_.” A slight exaggeration, but I know Drake  _would_ be upset if Father didn't even show his face. Drake had been fondly referring to the meeting as 'Halftime' ever since the  _first_ quarterly meeting ended  _months_ ago, constantly reading over notes and pie charts and whatnot, talking to himself. It drives me absolutely up the  _wall._

Father hesitates and seems to contemplate what I said for a moment before letting out a weary sigh. He sends a longing look at the case files before setting his shoulders and turning back towards me.

“Alright. I’ll finish this later,” he agrees. “Have you been down here this whole time?” He asks suddenly, as if remembering my presence all over again.

“Yes, Father.”

He looks a bit distraught.

“You were supposed to be in bed hours ago.”

“It’s Saturday.”

Father sighs again, stands.

“I’m sorry, Damian. You deserve better.”

“There is no need to apologize to _me_ , Father,” I assure earnestly. Truly, Father can do no wrong.

“Still,” He intones regretfully, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Suddenly, the cave opens, but instead of the familiar roar of the Batmobile, all that can be heard are Grayson’s hurried footsteps.

What the hell is he doing,  _walking_ into the cave? Come to think of it, I've never even seen anybody walk into the cave before. I didn't know even it was _possible_.

“Batman!” He cries in relief. “Thank god you’re still here!”

“What is it?” Father demands anxiously, immediately tense and ready for action.

I realize then that all my hard work convincing Father to take a break has just been tossed straight out the window.

I suppress a groan. I suppose _I_ will just have to be responsible for attending the WE meeting in Father’s stead. I begin mentally preparing myself for the inevitable hours of insufferable boredom and whatever ludicrous, idiotic nonsense Drake will be reciting this time.

“We have a situation,” Grayson frets.

Father is quiet, waiting for Grayson to continue.

“I went to Jason’s house earlier, but he didn’t answer the door, this other man did, and I... I think it was Willis.”

Father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dick, Jason’s father is dead, he has been for years.”

“I know that, but, but, I looked at the file, and it’s definitely him, he’s alive, I don’t know how but he is.”

“That can’t be right,” Father scowls, furiously turning back towards the computer, presumably to look over the files himself.

“That’s not all, though,” Grayson presses, suddenly nervous. Whatever it is, he is clearly worried about what Father’s reaction might be.

“What is it?” He growls.

“When I went there, I saw–I–” Grayson stops, swallows, and ‘rips the band-aid off,’ so to speak. “Bruce, I think Jason has a kids.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand that's a wrap. Congrats on making it this far, btw. Bear with me.  
> I think writing Tim was definitely the most fun. Damian was a close second, but if I have to look at the word 'Father' ever again I will literally barf. Dick's character was a little harder to grasp for me, idk why, but I'll get the hang of it eventually, I think.  
> Next chapter will probably be all Jason's- my poor chico only got one second of screen time, lol.  
> Any questions about Willis, the dog, and the young'uns will all be answered in due time, prometo.
> 
> ¿Te gusta? Lmk! I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.
> 
> Anyways, ciao for now! -Squid


End file.
